


love is just a bloodsport

by runningwithwerewolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek and Stiles only, Eternal Sterek, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Sarcasm, There is no sex in this, Training, Unresolved Sexual Tension, some other characters are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwithwerewolves/pseuds/runningwithwerewolves
Summary: Derek is trying to keep Stiles alive by training him to fight, and Stiles is just trying to get into Derek's pants.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 141





	love is just a bloodsport

Stiles plops on the bed with a still-sleeping Derek. He rubs at his tired eyes, the handle of his spoon bouncing as he balances a giant bowl of cheerios on his knee. Derek rolls over, watching as the teen sloppily eats his breakfast, the cereal crunching loudly between his teeth.

Stiles smiles down a mouth full of cheerios, and Derek parts his lips. "Did you sleep?"

"I've mastered the art of sleeping with my eyes open." He says, milk dribbling down his chin as he talks with his mouth full. "Want some? They're grrrrreat. Oh, shit. That's Tony the Tiger. Whatever. Cheerios will still make even a sour wolf like you cheerful."

Derek glares. "I told you not to call me that. Ever."

"I also remember you saying not to drop you in the evil swimming pool while Syzoth was trying to eat us." Derek glares. "Remember how well that worked out for you?" He finishes the last bite of cheerios and slurps some of the milk.

The alpha rolls out of bed and heads for the bathroom. "Finish up. We train in 15 minutes."

Stiles lurches to his feet, quickly placing the mostly-empty cheerio bowl on the end table before following Derek. "Woah, woah, woah - training You were serious about that!?"

Derek disappears into the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a piss. "Shut up and put the bowl of cheerios in the sink, that you didn't ask me if you could have first by the way." He spits some minty toothpaste-mixed spit into the drain. "And yes I was serious. There are some mats in the closet across from the kitchen. Set them up."

"Oooooh, I didn't take you for a yoga dude. Downward dog is pretty much your prime position, isn't it?" Derek holds back a growl before turning off the water and closing the door to pee. "And consider the cheerios a boarding house payment for the extra security conducted by yours truly." He says, standing outside the bathroom and finishing the milk from his cheerios. Loudly.

"What extra security?" Derek asked.

"While you were sleeping I beefed up the wards around the loft. And I stayed ever vigilant while you slept. You know, I made sure you didn't have any bad - or badder than you - dudes show up. You're welcome." A few beats pass and Stiles can't stop talking. What's new? "Damn, you have a big bladder. Is that so you can mark your territory everywhere?"

Derek comes out of the bathroom. Glare on his face. Stiles meets his glare with a grin.

"Morning, sunshine."

"Keep going, see what happens to your neck." He actually smirks at Stiles, knowing the little shit will keep going until he kicks his ass on the mat of course.

"Thanks, but I'd rather not scar my dad any more than I have too. Hickey's might push him into early retirement." The ass quips back, hurrying out of Derek's reach before rushing to the closet to take out the mats, grunting as he drags them across the loft.

"Mats...more like platforms of death." Stiles scowls at the black mats Derek pulls out from the back room.  
He moves the couch and coffee table back a few feet. Derek hopes he will stay focused, this training is about helping Stiles survive. But knowing him he'll just use sarcasm and try to get out of this. "Funny. And hurry up."

As if on cue, Stiles pretends that he hurt his back. "Ah, my back! I think I pulled my tailbone! You can't rush us, humans. We're not built to drag rubber toys around the house, you know." Seemingly annoyed, he kicks the last mat open so that it lays down flat. Then lays down on it, stomach first. "Ooooooh, squishy. I think I might like this, actually."

Derek rolls eyes and walks over to stand over him. "This isn't nap time. You should have tried to sleep when you had the chance."

Stiles rolls to his back, still between Derek's legs, and smirks up at him. „Who's tired I'm not tired? Why would I sleep when I've got a good view of -", the teen yelps as Derek reaches down to grab him by the back of his shirt and pull him to his feet.

"Stop screwing around. Show me what you know."

Stiles shoots a sheepish smile at him and looks down. "Uh... what I know? What I have is pretty much kung fu quotes and sarcasm."

"Sarcasm will not help you stay alive in a fight with a supernatural creature," Derek says, moving around the mat, circling Stiles. "You're dad must have taught you something."

Stiles slips a hand in his pocket, filling his hand with leftover skittles. His heart speeds up a bit, skin prickling as he listens to Derek circling him, but doesn't watch. Of course Derek hears and smells the sugary candy in his pocket. Of course, he can guess what he's planning, but he lets the moment play out. Give him a chance to think on his feet; see how well he uses that cunning mind under pressure.

"Well, you know Sheriff Stillinski, the regular ass-kicking, Mr. Miyagi-wannabe badass with the anxiety-driven asthmatic teenager. I'm actually a black belt in fuck-you-I'm-awesome."

"Hilarious." Derek stops on his left, a few feet away. "Take a defensive stance. We'll start with something simple. Put your fists up. Keep your body at an angle, makes you harder to hit." Stiles sighs, but puts up one fist awkwardly and leans at an angle that's toward Derek. Which he must know is wrong. "Both fists. Take this seriously."

"This feels less like Karate Kid and more like a really badly shot porno-ripoff filmed in some old dude's loft. Oh, wait..." He rolls his eye at the alpha's narrowed eyes. "Hey, I'm always seriously serious!"

Derek sees his muscles tense and watches Stiles slip his heel out of his shoe and kicks it at Derek's head. The wind changes and Stiles is fast, faster than Derek could have imagined. He stays low as he flings the skittles at Derek's face, aiming where he predicts that Derek will duck to his strong side to dodge the shoe. Tricking Derek into a prime position to give him a face-full of the rainbow. But the Alpha is fast too and predicted the skittles at the very least. He dodges the shoe easily and ducks low, rolling sideways before leaping from the floor and tackling Stiles to the mat.

"Decent distraction. But you need a good follow up strike." He says staring down at Stiles, breathing his air. Inches from his face. "Try again." 

He stands up quickly and walks a few paces away. Pretending his pants aren't straining from the pressure of his arousal. Also, definitely pretending there isn't a skittle tickling some very sensitive areas down his sweats.

"Uh..." The teen grins from his position on the floor. "Okay, so maybe I'm a little slow. But come on, if you weren't super-Alpha and my skittles were some mountain ash, you'd totally be my bitch. Admit it." Derek raises his brows in response, and Stiles scowls, rolling his eyes as he gets back to his feet. " Like seriously, I don't have super-human reflexes..." 

But Derek sees his eyes scanning his body. This isn't over yet if Stiles resolved expression and racing heartbeat means anything. The whiskey-eyes teen looks him over a second time, looking for weaknesses? Strategizing is his strong suit after all.

"Are you allergic to loose-fitting clothing or something?" Stiles grumbles even as his eyes take in Derek's form. He licks his lips nervously and Derek looks at himself. Tank top and sweats. Nothing but socks on his feet. 

“You are looking for weaknesses. Good."

"I guess I could always stick my feet in your face. I've been told that I could knock out half my LaCrosse team."

"Kicking would be more effective. You have the range for it." Derek smirks at Stiles for effect. "Most of the time we aren't on the offensive, but defense. For you this matters most." He leans left and sizes Stiles up. "What if I attack first straight forward, claws ready? What's your first move?"

"I'm smaller, so I need to deflect your weight," Stiles answers automatically, actually focusing, heart pounding in his head as his mind races, trying to see the problem at all angles. Stiles shakes his head. "You're still taller. Bigger...heavier..."

Derek nods at his answer, standing with his arms relaxed at his sides. "Speed is important. And I'm not that much taller, it's the difference in mass that's more important. You're leaner, faster. With the right training, you could beat someone like me." Derek moves back onto the mat. "And that's what this is about."

Stiles eyes go back to the loose string at Derek's pants. He must notice something else because his breath freezes for a moment. "...Huh?"

"Stiles, focus. I know that's hard for your ADHD brain. But you need to pay attention." He moves a few feet closer, flexing his fingers and taking a breath. "I attack, low claws ready. What do you do first?"

"Stop, drop, and roll? Then cry Uncle? Give you my lunch money?" Stiles licks his lips again. "God, you have thighs like a python."

"Excuse me?" Derek looks down at himself then back up. Smelling arousal and nerves. "You better think fast." The wolf storms forward, low and fast practically jumping across the mat, claws out and swinging.

When Derek is in the air, Stiles rolls underneath him, to the other side, so that he's off the mat. Then pulls it so that one of Derek's feet would slip into the half patched hold in the center. Derek sees the plan and lands and rolls off the mat, spinning around, Alpha eyes glowing.

Stiles, still holding a corner of the mat, with a pen concealed in his hand behind his back. He has his body angled so that Derek can't see where his hand is. "What's up with werewolves pouncing...?"

"Put the pen away, I can smell the ink."

"Wha-?"

"Fighting dirty is a good move. But I’d rather not get blood all over the floor today.“ Peter was really pissed last time. “Now let's move in." He ushers Stiles back onto the mat. Derek's hands are relaxed, claws, and red eyes away. "Now we practice hand to hand."

Stiles sighs and drops the map. Tosses the pen away with a whine. "It's not fair when you can smell all of my weapons, dude! I was totally going to do this awesome – whatever." He grumpily stomps back to the center of the mat.

"Keep it saved for later then. I just wanted to test your flexibility before we do some grappling."

"You would've been a Derek-burrito, just so you know."

His eyes widen a bit as he squares off at him. Whiskey eyes, lightening in the morning sun filtering through the windows. Derek's eyes trace Stiles' lean form, his collarbones peaking out under his t-shirt. 

Stiles swallows and looks back at Derek, “Wait, flexibility?"

Derek moves to the center and smacks Stiles' forearm lightly. "Fists up, protect your face. Angle your body."

"Oh, right." Distracted by the halo of new light surrounding the alpha. "So... protecting the face. Right. The best feature, really. I guess I can't ask you to avoid my money-maker?"

"No." Derek moves closer and brings up his fists. One open, one closed. "Try some simple combos, not too fast, just to get used to the swing."

Stiles pulls his phone out of his front jeans pocket, flashing the morning light in Derek's eyes by reflecting it off the face of the phone. The Alpha closes his eyes and steps out of the light. Swinging right and lurching forward to grab Stiles. 

Stiles drops the phone and ducks the swinging punch, effectively dodging Derek. The Alpha lurches at him, and Stiles climbs onto his back, wrapping his legs around Derek's torso, an arm under Derek's chin. He uses his free hands to cover Derek's eyes. 

"Guess who..."

Derek grunts, reaching as far back as he can and rolls to the side, effectively grabbing Stiles' collar and spinning him off his back. He lands a few steps away and Derek steps out of the direct light of the rising sun. Lands on his back, the wind being knocked out of him. He rolls to his stomach, wheezing.

"Temporary, but distracting your enemy for even a second could give you enough time to defeat them." He nods down at Stiles. "Good."

"Why does this feel less like training and more like playtime for the Alpha, only I'm your favorite chew toy?"

"You will be a chew toy if you don't stop messing around and actually try to beat me."

Stiles groans. "I suck at all of this." He shifts so that he's sitting on his ass, legs sprawled in front of him, he leans back on one elbow. "Can't we just - I dunno - wrestle or something? Even Scott can't hold me down for more than a few seconds. Or is the Alpha werewolf to afraid that he's going to get whupped like a dog?" He waggles his eyebrows, mouth parted and shiny with saliva.

"You would like wrestling, and I'm not trying to make you happy right now." Derek sighs and rubs a hand down his face. "You have speed and a quick mind. Those things alone will save you sometimes, but being able to actually get out of someone's grasp, or use your surroundings to get an advantage will keep you alive." Derek turns his back. 

It’s a few seconds before he realizes his mistake. He feels a shoe hit the back of his skull and then hands around his waist tackling him to the hardwood floor. Stiles grabs the string at the front of Derek's waistline and wraps it around Derek's forearm in the quickest knot that he can manage. 

Derek takes the hits, unavoidable; really he didn't see this coming. He's breathing harshly and spinning back around to yell at the little shit, but the wind is knocked out of him in the fall. He slaps Stiles hand away, pulling his leg up and over his head, trapping Stiles against the mat. Derek's leg over his throat and Stiles hand still holding the drawstring.

He slices the drawstring with a claw and groans. "Where were you going with that knot?"

Stiles makes a pained whining moan, body reacting to the heavyweight on him. Throat tight. His face is flushed and a shaking hand still clutching the drawstring. "Just... just taking advantage of what I can...' less you wanna grapple naked?"

Derek grins at that, head spinning as his thoughts race. "Distraction by flirtation does not work on your enemies Stiles. Or me." He remarks, tightening his thigh over Stiles throat and tugging his forearm for extra pain. "Now, get out of this hold, and I'll buy you an ice cream." Derek‘s voice drips sarcasm, a haughty grin rising on his face.

Surely Stiles has white dots filling his vision at the lack of oxygen. He moans as the pain his grip tightens, biting his bottom lip. "Get... get out, why...?“ His voice is thick, not trying to leave the hold, only pulling on the strings to get Derek closer.

"Focus and get out of the hold," Derek says, and Stiles laughs, his long fingers start rubbing at Derek's crotch. As much as they can in this tight of a hold. "If I don't scare you, then maybe I should get Peter to train you." Stiles gasps as Derek tugs at the pressure on his throat for half a second. "Or are you going to get out of this hold?"

"Way to... kill a guy's mood..." The mention of Peter holding him like this must wash cold sobriety over him because soon enough he's writhing under Derek, trying to get away.

He throws up his hips if only to get a few centimeters, tucking his chin over Derek's leg, he digs a knuckle into the nerve cluster behind Derek's thigh. The Alpha grunts under the pain and Stiles curls his other leg underneath his body to not lose that space and grips one side of Derek's ass so that he can twist his body and try to push him off in one go. Derek grins due to the fact that Stiles' arousal has subsided. Now I know Peter is the key. He has to release his grip, at least marginally due to the shocking pain from Stiles pinches into that nerve under his leg.

Stiles scowls, pushing himself away with his palms on the mat as he throws his heel up to strike at Derek's chin. He groans after pulling totally away from Derek. "What the hell...bringing Peter in this isn't even funny, dude! And I know funny!"

"Nice kick." Derek huffs out, quickly rolling into a standing position and stretching his arm over his head and behind his neck.

Stiles stays on the mat, hair, and clothes a mess, still scowling. "Whatever. Asshole. You know, I'd rather be a born-again-virgin than have Peter try to -" He shudders, making a face of disgust. "Gross, dude."

"If anger helps you fight, then come at me." Derek thinks about what Stiles said and makes a disgusted face to mirror Stiles'. "What do you mean have Peter try to what? Fight you? He's a seasoned warrior, he could teach you a lot." Derek steps toward a nearby column and leans against it.

"Nothing...“ Stiles grumbles, getting up slowly, and still scowling. "I don't want to learn anything from him." He moves for the couch, grabbing one of the throw blankets and rubbing off the sweat collected along his neck and face. "Working on your brooding Batman pose, there?"

"Waiting for you to give up so I can go about my day." Derek pushes away from the column and heads toward the window, the bed is near there and he needs to check his phone. "Not that I haven't enjoyed kicking your ass."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "That could be debatable. You have home-field advantage here, dude. I bet you can't take me on in my own room."

Stiles goes to collect his phone from the mat as well. "Ah, man...you don't have a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card on hand, do you?"

"I used all of mine." Derek deadpans. "Your dad?"

"Yeah." Stiles tucks his phone away and looks up at the wolf, biting his bottom lip he saunters toward Derek and takes a swipe at the pockets of his sweats. "Liar. I bet you have a whole handful of get-out-of-jail-free cards. Let me see your pockets." Derek slaps at his hands and stares at the face of his phone. "You know I can't trust the Big Bad Wolf. Next you'll be cross-dressing as my grandmother and telling me what big eyes I have."

"You need to sleep. Clearly."

"Do I sound tired to you I've gone weeks without sleeping before. What's a few days?"

Derek sees the texts, the one from Erica is the most recent. She needs help picking an outfit for a date and Derek wonders when this became his life. "What are you doing tomorrow night?" He asks Stiles.

"I'm starving here. I can't live off of cheerios. I need meat."

"Answer my question and you may get meat."

"What, gay meat?" Stiles shakes his head, probably realizing he's a lot more exhausted then he thought. "Wait, can you repeat the question I'll buy a vowel."

Derek sighs fondly. "We have a pack gathering tomorrow, something like a party. Scott mentioned he wanted to go and bring you." Derek gestures at his phone. "Are you going?"

Stiles smirks widely, eyes lighting up. "Are you asking me out? Because that sounds like a date-date question instead of a request to be your wingman. Because I could be an awesome wingman, just as Scott, but I can be an even more awesome not-wingman."

"The whole pack will be there, and it's at my house. Peter and the betas have been working on refurbishing the Hale house." 

Stiles makes a face when Peter is mentioned. "What's Dahmer know about home furnishing? Ah, I get it - Peter's a secret fan of Martha Stewart. That would explain so much!"

"He prefers Victorian furnishings actually."

"I guess if I was giving some incentive I could think about it..." He sprawls out on Derek's bed, digging his pen out of his pocket so that he can chew on the cap. "How quaint of him. Look, I'm a pretty busy dude, you know. I mean, not before Scott werewolfed-out. Before I had no life and would've jumped at a chance to go to a party. But now..." He shrugs a shoulder. "Lots of cases I could help my dad with."

Derek types on his screen and waits for a few seconds. A reply and he types back then grins at Stiles."Your father says its OK. You're going."

Stiles sits up suddenly, eyes wide in horror. „You text my DAD? Since when! What horrible rumors have you spread about me?"

Derek shrugs, "He asked me to help him with a case a few months ago. We hit it off."

Stiles eyes him suspiciously. "You and my dad...what cases? Why wasn't I told I'm like - his best friend? I mean, his son too, but mostly his best buddy. You text my DAD?" His jaw drops. "Oh my God, you can't ground me now, can you?"

"Maybe." Derek moves toward Stiles and pulls him off the bed. "Now get out I need to get things done before tomorrow night. Erica is bringing a date. And so am I."

"No...!" Stiles grabs onto the sheets, his shirt sliding up past his stomach as he's dragged off the bed. "Wait - a date? So, who's wingman am I supposed to be! I don't have a date. Does it look like I have a line of people willing to date an almost-virgin nerd?"

Derek let's go after Stiles is on the floor. He huffs a breath and cocks his head at him. "Almost virgin?"

Stiles flushes and gives a sheepish grin, pushing his shirt back down. "Long story for a really short incident." Derek reaches down, grabbing Stiles shirt, then the back of his neck and aims him toward the loft's doors. "Wait, wait! Don't throw me out!" He tries to latch onto Derek or anything else that he can use to keep from being thrown out. "I'll fold your laundry! Do the dishes! Clean the toilet so well that you can drink out of it!"

Derek screws up his face in disgust before shaking away the expression. "You're date would find that almost virgin story, really interesting. Tomorrow night." He manages to keep his face totally passive.

Stiles groans. "But I don't HAVE a date! Lydia would sooner file a restraining order than me than go out with me. And I don't really have a good track record with the ladies if you haven't noticed! I'd have better luck with Danny. And he's CONFIRMED that I am quite the catch. So ha!" He tosses the remark in Derek's face.

The Alpha is unmoved. "You know for a smart person Stiles, you really are stunningly moronic sometimes." He remarks, pushing Stiles out the door and pulling it shut slowly. "I will pick you up at 7pm. For our date, dumbass."

He hears Stiles grunt, "Says the dude who -" Derek listens to his heart pounding loudly and Stiles scratches at his head. "Oh."

Derek slides the loft door closed and turns around the face the warm light comes through the loft’s windows. A slow smile spreading across his face.

**Author's Note:**

> This was not written only by me! This was a live RP fic I did literally years ago with my then-friend AlexHamato. If she sees this, this is dedicated to you. If not, I hope everyone else likes it. There will not be a second part, this is a ONESHOT.


End file.
